My Last Letter
by xxBurningxx
Summary: Sherlock Holmes, this is my solute to you, so listen close because I'm only saying it once.


**Story Note: Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall. John/Sherlock. Heavily inspired by the song My Last Letter by Heroes of Heartache. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.**

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**My Last Letter**

**by. **_xxBurningxx_

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_January 5__th__, 2011._

_Doctor John Watson, 2:26PM._

_Perhaps I'm acting like a madman recording this. I wasn't planning on it originally, because Ella was the one who suggested it in the first place; she's the one who gave me this silly little device. But then Mrs. Hudson agreed with her too and said she thought it'd do me some good. And who am I to question her better judgment? You of all people know that she—God bless us all—is probably the strongest and most sturdy elderly woman I've ever met._

_Anyways. That's hardly the matter at hand or reason why I'm here, sitting at your desk speaking to an inanimate object. You don't understand how badly I wish I didn't have to be here, surrounded by what used to be our life together. You don't even understand how I feel, and no matter how much you thought you understood me, I doubt you ever even scraped the surface of my emotions when it comes to you. Regardless of your deduction skills, I'll always be that one mystery you never solved, whether you like it or not._

_I have to tell you though, because you're not here anymore to figure it out yourself._

_Selfish bastard._

_But before that, let me begin with a few questions that have been floating around in my mind ever since we met. Why? You were always so quick to deduce the very worst about people. Tact was not something that you had much of, so tell me, why? You're showed obvious distaste for Anderson, and just about everyone else, so why did you allow me to accompany you? The Study in Pink; how come you didn't tell me to leave when you realized that I was just as ordinary as anyone else? _

_Perhaps we'll never truly understand each other. _

_And I suppose we'll never get the chance to really find out either now. Shame._

_Alright, down to business. _

_Sherlock Holmes, this is my solute to you, so listen close because I'll only be saying this once. _

_You are amazing. I've said it so many times that it isn't even worth the time to try counting anymore. Every time you make a deduction by a glance, you catch my heart in an awe-stricken state. Truly remarkable, and I can't even fathom how many people took this aspect about you for granted. Sure, it could be annoying, even infuriating at times, but that doesn't change the fact that it truly is brilliance at its best._

_And not to mention your determination. I could always see it shining in your eyes with such a fierce fiery passion whenever we were on a case. And then the way you would neglect yourself of basic everyday needs, like _eating_—haha. I'm surprised you hadn't killed yourself of malnourishment by accident before we met…_

_Then not to mention your little fits of whining and complaining when you didn't have a case. It was actually pretty cute if you ask me; the way you would get so worked up, and then all of the sudden be fine when you get a call from Lestrad with something new. Heh._

_You know, looking back on it, I think I've realized something. You, of all people, strived to impress me Sherlock. More than you have for other people, I think. It may sound incredibly absurd, but…When we met, you hastily fixed up the apartment to make it look better. You asked me what you thought of your website. Maybe you were just trying to make a good first impression—maybe not. I'll never know._

_And call me crazy, but at one point you were jealous of how much time I spent writing my blog. The way you would make comments full of smite. The memory makes me smile. _

_Oh, and remember when you made me mad on that old H.O.U.N.D. case? That was really sweet of you, you know. Perhaps I didn't express it thoroughly enough at the time, but I can ensure you that those words meant a lot to me, and still do. _

_Oh dear God, I can feel the tears coming on now. _

_You know, I think that your brother cared about you too. In your eyes, it might have all been a false image and petty childhood feud, but Mycroft did love you in the end, and he wanted to protect you. And if you ask me, you cared about him just as much._

John is silent for a moment.

_Okay, fine. I'm beating around the bush now, so I might as well get to the part that matters the most; the real reason why I'm saying this._

_I miss you Sherlock. _

_I miss you so much that sometimes I don't think I'll be able to take another step into the world. I don't think you understood how little my life meant before I met you. In all truth, I had nothing. Absolutely _nothing.

_You used to say that fate doesn't exist, but honestly, sometimes I beg to differ. Because how could us meeting possible be anything less than fate?_

_I miss your voice. Okay, that sounds a little weird, but it's truly one of the things I took for granted about you. You would ramble and talk so much that sometimes I felt like throwing a book at you; sometimes it got to the point that your voice was actually stuck in my head like a song. But now…Now the cold silence is far from comforting._

_If there's one thing that I could ask you, it woul—Never mind. You already know without me saying it because you're _Sherlock._ So then, tell me why you did it. How could you leave us? Alright, forgive me because I'm going to be a selfish prick for just a moment, but forget the rest of them; tell me how you could ever possibly leave me? Me, Sherlock. _Me.

John sniffs, squeezes a few salty tears from his eyes, and gives out a small airy laugh.

_Then again, I suppose I shouldn't question your great mind too much; I may give myself a headache. _

_How long has it been? Six months? A year? I haven't even bothered to keep track. I suppose it's time to admit something else too. I haven't been properly taking care of myself. Don't worry; it's nothing too extreme, but I will say that I've been neglecting some basic needs, much like—_

he clears his throat with sarcasm

-_somebody that I know. I certainly haven't cleaned the flat, though Mrs. Hudson's taken care of most of that. Boxes of your stuff are scattered about everywhere but I just can't bring myself to throw any of it out. See what you've done to me? I'm a pathetic mess because of you. Thanks._

_There are still so many things that I need to tell you. I'm stupid. So God damn stupid. I should have told you everything while you were still here with me. Hahah, I'm sure that if you were actually listening to this, you'd be irritated, because you by now you could tell by the tone of my voice that I've been pointlessly rambling. I haven't even reached the most important part of this message yet._

_I suppose I can't keep you waiting any longer; it'd be rude of me. And besides, I've already been here talking for almost an hour._

_I love you Sherlock._

_I wasted too much time assuming that all those little fantasies about you were just figments of my imagination. I know that you weren't exactly a fan of relationships, but sometimes I wonder. That's a lie. I often times find myself pondering what it would have been like; having a life with you. Not just as flatmates. As something perhaps more than that._

_I'm an idiot for not telling you sooner, I know. _

_I'm a God damn idiot._

_I wish that I could see your reaction to this. Would you be surprised? Or would you be snarky and say that you already knew that I felt this way. Strangely, for some reason, I don't think you would. I think there would be at least some part of you that feigned shock. I never gave you a reason to believe that I was attracted to you._

_I suppose the fact that I didn't even realize it until after you were gone also plays a part in that. How could I act attracted to you when I didn't even know it myself? It really does represent the old saying, "You don't realize how much you need something until it's gone."_

_That's one of many things that I would change if I had the chance to._

_You'd probably ask _why _I love you. After all, you have spent your entire life watching as people eyed you with envy and hatred. The closest thing to love you ever received is from Mrs. Hudson, and that by no means was romantic; it was a 'mother-hen' sort of love and caring. _

_Sherlock, you are truly the most amazing man I have ever met to this day. No matter how cold and non-emotional people think you to be, I know that somewhere buried deep in your soul, there's a soft spot, longing for warmth. I'm sure that you would protest to that, but honestly, can you say that it's false? _

_I'd kill people to make sure you're safe; you saw that yourself. Funny, that I couldn't prevent the person who killed you with the same means of action. Ha. Ha._

_God I miss you so much it hurts. Other people are probably going to start calling me crazy, but I need you back in my life. I need you to come back to me more than anything I've ever needed in my entire life. You _are my life _Sherlock, whether you knew that or not._

_Aw damn, and here I was doing so well at holding the waterworks back. No point in trying to restrain them now, I suppose._

Tears stream down his face silently.

_You'd probably wrinkle your nose in disgust at how far these emotions have taken hold of my heart. Then again, it is your fault in the first place. _

John closes his eyes and lets out a sad sigh.

_I think it's time I get going. No point in dragging this out longer than it needs to be, even if I've already pretty much done that. _

_Well._

_Okay. Goodbye then. _

…_Come back, for me._

The last part of the message is so quiet that it isn't caught on the tape. And then he presses the little button, and the small machine lets out a high pitched beep signaling that it had finished recording. John sighs.

There aren't very many men out that John considers worthy of a salute.

But if there's anyone out that that deserves one, it's Sherlock Holmes.

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The next day, the blond finds himself standing at the grave made of black marble. Ella will ask to listen to the tape; those were her true intentions from the first place. Like bloody hell John's going to let that happen.

So instead, he places a hesitant kiss on the device that holds the message, leans down, and places it on the base of the tombstone. He takes a step back to scrutinize his handiwork, and then closes his eyes. Slowly, John Watson brings his right hand to his forehead, keeps it there for a moment, and then tips it off before turning around to leave the area.

He can already feel the tears welling in his eyes and he doesn't want to stick around for too much longer, because he knows that if he does, he won't be able to stand it anymore.

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Unknown to him, by the time he is sitting in a cab and on his way back to 221B, a curly-haired man with pale-blue eyes has picked up the recorder only to slip it into his pocket before briskly walking away.

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_~end~_

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**A/N: I just finished re-watching this show for like, the fifth time, and damn it all if I'm not bawling my eyes out. The first four times, I painfully held back tears, but now it's in the middle of the night and I will sob if I god damn want to! Anyways. This. I'm not really sure where this came from, but I hope you enjoyed it. I'm still really upset about Season 3 because I don't want John to get married.**

**Meh.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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